All's Well That Ends Well
by maybe okay
Summary: She shouldn't be surprised that everything is falling apart between her fingers, it's the only common thread through her life. But this time, she has a choice, to turn the other cheek and be a better person. And maybe, this time, it'll turn out for the better. Post-3B finale.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note**: So, after some consideration, I decided to write something in the post-3B world. Like a lot of people, the finale left a little whole in my heart for Regina, and that just won't do. She just can't catch a break, can she? I don't know if this is going to be a one-shot or multiple chapter story, but this is what I have so far. I don't know what ship this is leaning towards other than a heaping ton of Mill's family fluff, but it isn't a hidden fact that I have a soft spot for Swan Queen.

Any who, this isn't beta'd so all mistakes are my own, and I'd love to get whatever feedback you have to offer! I have a very amateur tumblr where I mostly reblog things that make me laugh, but I'll definitely respond to any questions/comments that you send my way! It is **civilorange** on tumblr.

**Summary**: She shouldn't be surprised that everything is falling apart between her fingers, it's the only common thread through her life. But this time, she has a choice, to turn the other cheek and be a better person. And maybe, this time, it'll turn out for the better.

* * *

Seeing him embrace her like a solidified lifeline didn't hurt like she expected it to, there was no crack and burn inside that rendered her knees weak and her breath shallow. There was just a pitter patter of a resilient heart still beating—always beating. She could feel the guilt radiate off the savior like a palpable thing, but Regina didn't want any of it—the blonde's hero complex was an ache in the mayor's teeth and she knew she couldn't quiet keep the betrayal out of her eyes when she turned to her.

"You're just like your mother." No, something about this was both better and worse, it was a saving grace and a damnation because it was so ridiculously understandable and so confoundedly _stupid_. Which mean it was right up Emma Swan's alley, that crossroads of stupid and good, that place so few people seemed be able to frequent without dying horribly noble deaths at young ages. Clearing her throat, she turned dark eyes back toward the reunited family just in time to catch his gaze—his bright blue eyes and unsure lips. Somewhere between a frown and a smile.

She wanted to hate him, to feel betrayal and anger, but she just can't, and that had to be a sign of growth. She offered him something of a smile, it's halfhearted and probably sad, but beneath that it's genuine and she sees the responding glimmer in his bright eyes. She knows he wants to talk about their secrets, about what their story will be from this moment forward, who they will be to each other, but she can't—she won't. He would have been her second chance at love, he would wander through the red in her heart and mend all those black spots—but he no longer needed a second chance.

His Marian was back. The woman he would walk through hell for had simply stepped through time for him, in a way her own Daniel never could. She couldn't begrudge him that.

_Goodbye_. She mouthed quietly, before turning to walk out of the diner, into the suddenly brisk night—bunching the collar of her coat around her neck. The bang of the door wasn't far behind her, and she was just about to spin and inform whoever was following her that she didn't need pity, an escort, or whatever else they thought she needed—before she meet the steady gaze of her son.

"Mom?" He said it so simply, like he used to when he'd find her standing in the kitchen late at night—not worried, but there, simply there. He was so tall now, the top of his head was well past her chin and she couldn't stop the watery smile that fell across her lips as she beckoned him toward her. His reason was simple, "I'll walk you home."

They fell together so easily, her arm around his slightly broader shoulders, his arm around her waist as she tucked her nose into his mop of dark hair. He should have gotten a haircut weeks ago, but obviously Emma didn't hold that as much of a priority—or maybe that was just the style in the rest of the world. Big city and all that. Her son, her little prince, he'd been places she'd never even dream of seeing, he'd been part of a world that would never really include her.

"How're you doing in math?" Because he'd been atrocious at it before he'd been too concerned about curses and fairytales, when he wasn't losing relatives to the Enchanted Forest and being kidnapped himself to Neverland.

"Crap." He amends quickly with a grin that's too-lopsided to have been gotten from her, "Crud. Ma used to let Walsh help me, but then—." He trailed off.

"Of course a simian is better at algebra than your birth mother." It hurts that she wasn't there to help him, to get into the stupid little fights they used to about multiplication and division that she couldn't show him the little tricks she learned for the soul purpose of showing him. Mathematics hadn't been lauded in the Enchanted Forest.

"Mom?" Reproachful, like he wasn't sure it was his place to ask her something, and she knew he'd ask about the scene in the diner.

"I'm fine." Unconvincing, but she was smiling for her son, because even though she wasn't it wouldn't be up to him to fix this. He was just a boy, it wasn't his responsibility to coddle his mother. She'd done such a horrible job protecting him from the faults in the world, but she wouldn't let this pass. She wouldn't let him feel responsible for her crumbling world.

"It would be okay if you weren't." His dark eyes are honest, his expression earnest and she wondered how she had raised such a wonderful boy. What inside her had prompted such goodness? She couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up, startled enough that a single tear slipped from her eye and rolled down her cheek,

"I suppose, sweetheart." The concession was quiet and she pulled him a little closer, like the familiar feeling of having him tucked against her could chase away the unhappiness of the world. "But for now I have to be." Tomorrow, she could fall apart, she could break and shatter, but for right now she had to be fine. She had to be alright enough that revenge and black desire didn't crawl up her throat like a destructive bed fellow. She had to convince her worse habits that they weren't needed, and that she was just good enough of a person to crumble without taking the world with her.

"Okay." The tuck in his brow was all her, eyebrows pinched together with an incredulous tilt of his chin, but he seemed willing to accept her explanation without the curiosity that they both knew was barely reined in. "But…" He trailed off, looking up at her with such unwarranted understanding, like he would give anything for her to feel alright. "But when you aren't. I'll be here, okay?"

She loves him so much. It shouldn't come as any type of surprise, but the swelling warmth spilling through her chest it enough to chase away her wayward demons, the monsters crawling through her magic thrummed veins and black tainted her. Burying her nose in the mess of his hair, she deposited a kiss to his temple. It took an incredible boy to love an Evil Queen—former or not.

She hadn't realized they had reached the front gate of the mansion, the windows dark and silent, and despite the sadness lodged somewhere at the back of her throat, she couldn't stop the thrill of seeing the proof of his existence within the walls of their home. His shoes forgotten on the foray floor, the dirty dishes left for her to clean in the sink, the controlled to his video game tossed on the family room couch. There were the pieces that had been missing, the holes that needed fulfillment even though she refused to speak about it.

"I know." Because she no longer worried about whether or not he loves her, nor does she worry about being unable to show him her own love. After all, hadn't she broken the curse with true love's kiss? That had to mean something. Tomorrow, she'd think about lost soul mates and the consequences of chivalrous stupidity. Tonight, she'd spent time with the son she'd missed for longer than the year he'd be gone. They'd be the family that had existed before adoption and curses ruined the easy routine of being together.

"For now," she let her tone become serious, low and grave as she reached out a hand to open the gate and usher Henry up to the unlocked door. He looked suddenly pensive from the change in her voice, "I'm challenging you, Henry Mills, to a tournament of Mario Kart. Winner picks tonight's movies." She'd never won before, but she wouldn't complain about having to watch Avengers or Iron Man for the fifteenth time.

"Oh, you're going down, mom." The worried expression had changed quickly to a wide grin, aptly crooked like his birth mother's, as he pushed the front door open with familiarity and flicked on the light. "Loser has to let the winner eat all the ice cream they want." She found she was smiling too, not terribly wide, but it was genuine—happy, even. Yes, she'd deal with lost soul mates tomorrow. Tonight, she had to put an arrogant thirteen year old in his place.

And keep the fact that the only ice cream in the house was pistachio—which he hated—and that she'd be eating it regardless of who won.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note**: Well, here's chapter two, and it'd borderline stream of consciousness. I still haven't decided what this is turning into, but it's just plugging along. Robin and Emma will be involved shortly—I want everything settled and properly masked before everything gets upheaved. I've decided on something, and that means this is going to go the route of Swan Queen, though there will be ample Robin—but no bashing! This is how I want season 4 to be; I have to tell myself these lies to get through the summer.

Again, no beta, so my poor grammar and spelling mistakes are all my own! Next chapter is going to be about Regina's nights, without the buffer of children lightening the burden on her heart. It was going to be this chapter, but apparently I can't even listen to myself. I think I just wanted enough fluff to fall back on when I pile on the angst, a nice fail-safe. Again, any questions/comments, my tumblr is **civilorange**. I'd love whatever feedback you have.

**Summary**: She shouldn't be surprised that everything is falling apart between her fingers, it's the only common thread through her life. But this time, she has a choice, to turn the other cheek and be a better person. And maybe, this time, it'll turn out for the better. Post-3B finale. Swan Queen.

* * *

Avoiding someone without making it blatantly clear was harder than she initially assumed. One would think not seeing a man who lived in the forest was as simple as _not going in the forest_. But it seemed like the freshly established Hood family had moved into one of the vacant apartments in the central part of town. Near town hall, near the grocery store, near Granny's. She could only stretch the food in the fridge so far, it seemed. Because on the second day of grilled cheese sandwiches, Henry cornered her with way too much understanding, and just the right amount of exasperation.

"Mom, do you plan on never leaving the house again?" His eyebrow was raised, and his expression incredulous; she never realized how demeaning her expressions were until she saw them reflected back to her on her son's face.

"What? Don't be ridiculous, Henry." No change to his face, just even dark eyes. Then she glibly settled for, "I got the mail yesterday." It had all been nonsense that she had immediately thrown in the trash—bills, fliers and whatever town notice was going around that week. She usually poured over the things that could have negatively impacted _her_ town.

"That's not what I meant." His pursed lips said, _and you know it_, before he took a large bite of his grilled cheese. They only had milk because she'd handed him a five and asked him to pick it up on his way home from his grandparents', the—untouched—cake on the counter had been from Snow, and the stack of files from her office had been dropped off by her secretary this morning.

"I've been busy with paperwork, this town just doesn't run itself—despite what your troglodyte grandparents seem to think." Hand waved dismissively in the air, as she too took a bite of grilled cheese—it seemed that despite her best efforts to impress class upon the sandwich, there was only so much one could do with melted cheese. It was hard to look haughty while drinking milk in her pajamas, and peeling the crust off her grilled cheese. Henry had taken to her self-imposed solitude rather well, coaxing her out of her darker moments with reminders of their happier life together. Comic books and board games, Saturday Night Live and General Hospital. The small things that he had overlapping memories of—the true ones from his childhood, and the false ones from New York. It had warmed her heart when he'd made a quiet confession.

"It always seemed a little off with Emma." He said it wonderingly, like it really hadn't occurred to him until just then. "I remember playing Monopoly with her every New Year's Eve, but it just never seemed…right." It had been their tradition since he'd been old enough grasp the rules. Junior Monopoly mainly, but they'd upgraded to true Monopoly the New Years before everything fell apart—and the last few years, they hadn't had the chance to play. "She didn't want to be the banker, but I still remember how you wrote it into the rules with every box. _Whoever doesn't leave their dirty shoes on my freshly polished floors, gets to be the banker_." She'd almost cried when he parroted her self-made rule back.

Sitting at the counter, rubbing her fingers to remove any hint of bread crumb, she toiled with the silence in the kitchen. Henry hadn't once insinuated that he thought she was regressing, that he thought she would do something horrible to the other people he considered family—despite the boundless stupidity that seemed to fester like a cancer in their noble blood. He'd been understanding, he'd been supportive, and he'd let her know that even though he knew she was breaking apart inside—he'd let her be his mother. Let her hide away her tears and protect him from the darkness that had been neutered by love—a clawless beast that lurked like a death sentence in her blood.

"Do you want anything in particular from the store?" She asked abruptly, not meeting his slightly startled eyes—too busy ripping the piece of sandwich on her plate into small buttered pieces of congealed cheese. "I was thinking Enchiladas, you can bring some over to your grandmother tomorrow—Gods knows she'll be offended if she didn't get any."

"I—," he seemed at a loss for words, before he hopped off his stool and wrapped her in a hug. It wouldn't be long not before he towered over her, before his hugs engulfed her—it was getting harder and harder to pretend he was still her baby boy, who needed her to protect him from the world. Kissing her cheek, she could feel his smile, "Enchiladas sound great, mom."

* * *

She didn't know how a thirteen year old boy had twisted her arm so thoroughly; there hadn't been any dramatic declarations, or any emotional upheavals, he'd simply made her feel so _childish_ for her desire to simply corner herself away for a while, and live life delightfully void of the people who would inevitably ruin her self-imposed balance. Walking from her parked car toward the supermarket, she'd forgone a list with the intention of throwing together the first few things she found and declare the day a victory.

Of course, she was Regina Mills, and the world didn't work like that for her.

"Gina!" The voice was practically a squeal, from a distance, and she barely had enough time to turn properly before a small body was throwing himself into her surprised arms. Years of raising a boy had conditioned her reflexes to expect sudden bombardments, so it was with an instinctual grace that she swung the boy up onto her hip and accepted the tight set of arms around her neck.

"Gina, I missed you!" So empathic was the young voice in her ear, the startled look on her face melted into a fondness that she couldn't stop. Roland Hood didn't know the dilemma that was currently fissuring his world—he had simply known that one of his favorite people, his Gina, had been missing for _days_. Pressing his small face into the crook of her neck with delight, it was the most comfortable he'd felt in days.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry. I've missed you too." Tightening her arms around the boy, she shifted her hold on him so that she could pull him back to get a good look at his face. Bright dark eyes were wide in happiness, his smile toothy and true. Brushing her fingertips through his unruly locks she pursed her lips and murmured, "Where are you parents, darling? They're surely looking for you."

His parents. The man who was her soul mate, and the woman she had—apparently—executed thirty years ago. Dark eyes tightened as she tried not to put too much weight behind her words—she'd made it this far by not thinking about it. By drinking enough cider before bed to make them dreamless nights—she knew Henry was worried, but she had done her best to spare him the gruesome details of her breakdown.

"_Mama_ didn't want to go to the park." the boy said the title with a strange connotation to his voice—like how Henry used to call her _mom_. Like he'd much rather call her anything else in the world, anything that didn't make her his mother. She scrutinized Roland's sweet features and couldn't believe the pinch of anger lining the space between his brows. He'd given her enough emphasis to know there was an unspoken—_so I went myself_ —and though she had her problems, she wouldn't let any parent feel the sharp terror of a lost child for a moment longer than she had to.

"Roland," her tone was low, eyebrows perked to compliment the serious set to her features, "You don't run off alone. It's dangerous, honey. Your mother is no doubt scared senseless that she can't find you." She was already abandoning her plans to shop, carrying the youngest Hood toward the center of town. He pouted, properly chastised, and pressed his face into her neck.

"She wouldn't miss me." He groused, certain in the way only a small child could be, rubbing his nose against her neck affectionately. Apparently not all estranged mothers were their child's savior, apparently sometimes they were villains in disguise. People to hate and hurt because of some phantom pain that was only real once they'd shown up again—she didn't feel much for Maid Marian, but she didn't want that for Roland. He deserved his happiness, and she wouldn't let unnecessary strife ruin it.

"She would, darling. So very much, because she loves you dearly." She didn't know when she became an authority on love, but suddenly it was like she could feel it in every thrumming vein in her body. How anybody could not love this boy was simply impossible. Rubbing her hand up and down his back, she deposited a kiss to his plump cheek. Humming unintentionally under her breath as she walked down the sidewalk—getting enough second glances that she had to steadfastly ignore.

"She doesn't." It was only years of experience that told her not to look directly into the pout that was surely being offered in her direction. A boy who didn't understand how someone could be gone for so long, and suddenly love him _that much_. It had been easier with Regina—she wasn't _mama_, she was simply Gina. The woman who saved him, who hugged him when he was scared, who told him the best stories. Everyone else called her _your majesty_, even his father, but he got to call her Gina—only him. It made a little boy special, it calmed his racing heart when monkeys and witches waged war against them.

"She does." Simple, her hand never stopping the soothing rub of his back, as she came to the front of the building. She could hear a door two levels up being thrown open, and a rush of steps down the creaking stairs. Robin's wife burst through the door with flushed cheeks and wild eyes—only to pale when she saw who was currently holding her son. Anger flashed through dark eyes, but features were frozen in a harrowing look of fear. A kind of fear she had forgotten so readily when she eased out from the Queen's shadow. When she became simply Regina.

"Your Majesty." Deferential, shivering, but Regina saw how the woman's fists clenched—opening fingers wide, only to close tightly around her thumb. Wanting to hurt, to lash out but knowing a more dangerous creature on sight. This woman, this Maid Marian, was used to a world full of dangerous creatures—none more so than the Queen herself.

"I seem to have come across your wayward son, dear." She hoisted Roland a little higher, enough to disentangle the arms suddenly tighter around her neck. Releasing to boy to stand on his own two feet in front of her, facing his mother, she let her hands rest on his shoulders. "We had a lovely chat about how dangerous it is to wander off by himself. Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

The mumbled _yes_ was the best she was going to get, but that wasn't really what mattered. The guilt that curled in her chest was a strange thing—she looked at this woman, who really meant nothing to her, and she wondered how fickle fate was. How easy it seemed to crumble when it was in her favor, how insignificant destiny was when it entailed her happiness. She had surely killed this woman—after all she'd been lifted from her dungeon by the foolhardy _savior—_but she couldn't even recall a passing recognition. Just a single death in a league of thousands; why should she feel particular guilt over this one?

She answered her own question simply enough. Because of the boy squirming uncomfortably under her palms, a boy who had grown up without his mother because the Queen made her way through life leaving faceless bodies in her wake. She'd murdered his mother, and hadn't even the decency to remember.

"I—thank you, your majesty. I was looking everywhere, he's just like his father. Always looking for adventure—regardless of how _dangerous_." Dark eyes were furious and _knowing_, and Regina found herself wondering how much the outlaw had told his wife. Where she had cruelty and darkness etched into her very bones, Robin had noble honesty carved into his heart—a good man, one she hadn't been sure she deserved. A twinge in her heart was all she would allow herself, a sharp twist before she shoved the feeling down and she covered it with a crooked smirk.

"Of course, dear." Polite, distant—ever the politician—and she was stepping back, moving away and leaving this broken little family to their own discord—but Roland was pressing his face into her stomach, and wrapping his little arms around her waist. Kneeling down, she ignored the widening of Marian's eyes—the Queen never knelt, not for anyone. "Be good for your mother, darling. It was so good to see you."

"Bye, Gina." And like that her false smile melted into a genuine tilt of crimson lips, her fingers combing through messy dark strands as she gently pushed him toward his mother. A trembling angry woman who snatched him to her side like Regina planned on stealing his very breath as ingredients for her next potion. Straightening and turning with her head high, like she wasn't buckling in unusual guilt and harrowing sadness. She turned back briefly to the woman who still meant nothing to her, but somehow meant too much.

"In all this madness, I've forgotten my manners." There was a spark of the queen in dark eyes, in the slight lift of her lips—Roland was blissfully ignorant, having turned away. But Marian saw the shift, the darkness that would always be there—regardless of the white magic pulsing like a hollow reminder in her veins. "Welcome to Storybrooke, dear. Please, enjoy your stay."

And then she walked away—chin up, eyes down.


End file.
